


Salvation For the Weary

by ScaryScarecrows



Series: Garage Tapes [22]
Category: Gotham City Garage (Comics)
Genre: Dove is Pissed, Friendly reminder that Dove works for a crime lord and knows Things, Jason is dead right now but this is very much happening because of him, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28481577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScaryScarecrows/pseuds/ScaryScarecrows
Summary: “Your boss,” she says, and she can’t stop her voice from shaking, “had my son tortured for two goddamn days before having him killed. There is nothing you can do to me, but there’s a lot I can do to you.”
Series: Garage Tapes [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1033470
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	Salvation For the Weary

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Blues Saraceno’s ‘No Mercy in the Wild’.

Dove’s been sitting on the toilet for about half an hour, waiting for the guy she’s got handcuffed in her shower to wake up.

It might be a while. She’d cold-cocked him pretty good once the door was locked behind them, and, uh...well…

She did put ice on the lump. After she’d stripped him and handcuffed him in the shower, but there is ice on the lump.

This whole thing is...it’s surreal, is what it is. She’s  **alert** , hyper-aware of her breathing and that of the man’s, a little hung up on how uncomfortable the cold toilet lid is, and a bit, just a bit, sick to her stomach. She’s not sure if it’s nerves or just…

This man has information that she wants. He works for Lex, lower-level, it’s true, but he works for Lex and more importantly, he can tell her about the men who killed Jay. She wants  **those** ones. And he’s going to give them to her.

When ten more minutes pass without a twitch, she reaches over and turns the water onto straight cold. Maybe it works, maybe it’s timing, but he comes to life with a strangled squawk.

“Wh-where--”

Oh, brother.

“It doesn’t matter.”

He doesn’t like that; his eyes narrow and he spits, voice dripping with hate, “You  _ bitch _ .”

She’s been called worse in kinder situations, which means she can muster up a sunny smile when she leans forward and says, “Maybe. But this bitch knocked you out, so…” She shrugs. “I just want to talk.”

She does not just want to talk. She wants to scream, to rip him limb from limb and cut his tongue out to shove down his throat, followed by a finger or four, and just watch him  **choke.**

But she’s not going to do that.

Probably.

“Fuck you, let me go--”

She jabs her stun gun into his groin, just above his dick, and hits the button.

He doesn’t scream, not really. There’s an aborted  **noise** , but overall he just flops and jerks like a fish until she withdraws.

“That was the least painful thing I can do to you,” she tells him, doing her best to channel Penguin’s cold, disinterested-yet-pissed tone. “You’re going to tell me what I want to know, and you’re going to tell me now.”

He’s silent, breathing through clenched teeth. Dove sets the stun gun in the sink, where he can’t reach it, and picks up her still-bloody pipe.

“If you don’t,” she continues, “I start cutting bits off. Do we understand each other?”

He spits at her. Misses, but still. The sentiment is there.

“When I get outta here, you’re gonna be so fucking sorry,” he snarls. “I’m gonna kill everyone you ever so much as  **looked at** and then I’m gonna fu--”

The pipe breaks his nose with a sickening  _ crack! _ Knocks out two teeth, too; they skitter down the drain. Oops. Nothing a little Drano can’t handle, surely.

“Your boss,” she says, and she can’t stop her voice from shaking, “had my  **son** tortured for  **two goddamn days** before having him killed. There is  **nothing** you can do to me, but there’s a  **lot** I can do to you.”

He spits again. This time blood and a piece of tooth hits the edge of the shower. Dove puts the pipe aside, picks up her X-Acto knife, and gets up. He’s as trussed up as she could manage, but he can still kick at her. And bite, but...bites are easy to dodge.

She settles next to his head, uncaps the X-Acto, and presses the blade against the soft skin under his left eye. Said eye widens and lowers so that he’s nearly cross-eyed trying to see it. Good.

“I want Gregory Miller,” she says. “And you’re going to tell me how I can do that.”

Gregory Miller is one of the few cops that, as far as anyone knows, can’t be bribed with the promise of a free lay or a Favor. He goes to work, gets takeout on the way home. That’s it. She’s not stupid enough to get him in his house, but if there’s any sort of blackmail material...or, well, anything else. But she wants him, because he’s a midlevel: low enough that he won’t really be missed, but high enough to know, maybe, who had Jay. Or at least know someone who does.

“Screw you--” She presses the blade down a little more. A pinprick of blood appears and grows, trickling down like a tear. “Okay, okay! I’ll talk!”

“Never doubted you for a second,” she soothes, withdraws the knife so it’s just resting against the skin. “Miller. How do I get him.”

He takes a few deep breaths, clearly under the impression that she’s a patient woman. She’s about to dig the X-Acto in again, maybe take that eye out, when he blurts out, “He makes a little extra money selling drugs. Like. You gotta. Gotta go to him, he doesn’t come to you, he’s got an exclusive list--I-I can getcha on it! I can hook you up!”

Interesting.

Dove withdraws the knife and puts the cap back on. Safety first, after all. He sighs, clearly starting to feel better about his situation.

Sometimes, men are really fucking dumb. Then again, this guy wasn’t too bright to start with. All it took to get him here was a throaty, ‘hey there, big boy’, a wink, and a slow saunter out of the bar. He’d come running like a dog.

“I’ll get myself on it, thanks,” she says, twisting around to set the knife in the sink. “But I appreciate your cooperation. Really.”

“What are you doing.”

Dumb as a box of rocks.

“I can’t have you blabbing,” she says, because come  **on** , he didn’t  **really** think he was going to walk away, did he?

_ Come now, come now, you don’t have to be so dumb, now. _

“I told you what you wanted!”

“Yup.”

“You crazy bitch--”

Dove has a gun. She knows how to use it. But guns are noisy. A switchblade jammed into a man’s neck, however, is not.

There’s a reason Penguin likes knives. 

She’ll take care of this in the morning. Or start to, anyway, start breaking him down and getting him out of here. She’s got some spring cleaning to do, or...something. Lotta trash to take out.

She flicks off the light and leaves the bathroom. Her heart’s beating too fast and she can’t quite catch her breath.

This isn’t the first time she’s seen a man die. It’s not even the first time she’s killed one. But. It’s just.

This won’t bring Jason back. She knows it won’t. But she’d...it almost…

It feels like it should. She did her bit, now he has to come home.

She sinks to her knees, sobbing. He’s not coming home, no matter what she does, and it’s so fucking cold at night--

Okay. Okay. Come on. Come on, get up. Get some. Some tea, maybe, yeah, tea, and calm down. Just try to calm down. It’s over for tonight.

It’s over for tonight.

THE END


End file.
